


Father and Son

by PontiusHermes



Series: Thicker Than Water [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hotch's POV, Hurt/Comfort, POV First Person, Rossi's POV, Sickfic, Sickness, Team as Family, Thicker Than Water, bau, father/son relationship, non-romantic, sneeze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:13:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5088530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PontiusHermes/pseuds/PontiusHermes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hotch is sick, and Rossi feels paternal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Father

It was a little after eight at night. The bullpen was darkened and quiet. I was ready to go home. More than ready. The day had been stressful. Minutes had been shaved off breaks, and the whole place had seemed to run entirely on coffee. Everyone had worked with their quiet and focused efficiency. Except for Hotch. He had seemed tired, distracted, and the entire day I had been on the verge of asking him if he was OK. But we were all stressed. I wasn't his father, and I trusted him to know that, if necessary, we could handle even the worst of days without him. I wasn't prepared to see the light on in his office, not so late, not that night. I supposed it must have been left on by accident, and moved to turn it off.

Hotch was sitting at his desk, head in hands. As I watched he sniffed and sneezed, body shaking with the force. I felt a pang of paternal concern. He sneezed again, and shivered. Evidently he needed to go home. I was still frozen in the doorway.

"Er, Hotch?" I said, my voice feeling too loud, "Do you think it's time you went home?"

He started and looked up, his countenance at once weary and strangely guilty. His sigh seemed like one of defeat.

"I guess so. It's just -" he sighed again, "I don't know if I should drive."

I crossed the room and gently placed my hand on his forehead. It was strikingly warm.

"I'll drive you," I offered, paternal instinct still coursing through me. He stared at his desk, trying to decide whether to accept. His face was slightly flushed and his hair was damp with sweat. "I'll drive you. You're right -- you can't drive, and otherwise you'll be stuck here all night. Come on."

Another sigh. "You shouldn't have to do this, Rossi," he said finally. He sneezed miserably.

"Come on," I repeated, "and bless you."


	2. And Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same thing -- Hotch is sick, Rossi feels paternal -- but from Hotch's POV

I'd been feeling sick the whole day, but everyone was so busy and I didn't feel as though I could desert them. I wasn't that sick, anyway. Maybe a bit feverish, but it wasn't the plague. It was the most inefficient day I had had in a long time. I had sat there trying to write or discuss, but my thoughts would streak out of my mind faster than I could write or speak. From about eleven in the morning I had been exhausted, and I had had a throbbing headache. But still, I had a job to do. Sure, I had sick leave, but sick leave doesn't get anything done.

By around eight at night I was still at work. I wanted desperately to go home, but knew that driving with a fever was about as good as driving while intoxicated. Head in hands, I was sneezing and miserably contemplating how well I could sleep in my office when I heard Rossi in the doorway asking almost hesitantly whether I thought I should go home. I looked up. Yes! I thought emphatically, but that brought me back to the how-do-you-get-home-if-you-can't-drive dilemma. I told him the problem. 

Next thing I knew he was there feeling my forehead. His touch was gentle, cool and reassuring. I leaned slightly into his hand, a little child again. 

"I'll drive you," he said softly. I was mortified. He had his own home to go to. I was only his colleague. Undeniably he meant well by asking, but I didn't want to be an inconvenience. He repeated it with a firmness that showed he was already decided.

 I weakly gave him the obligatory you-don't-have-to response. He knew it was only obligatory, and insisted. 

So I left my car at work, and he drove me home, dropping me off and seeing me off with an almost parental concern. The rest of the evening passed over me like waves. For periods I was inundated with sensation, in others I could feel nothing. My dreams too were strange, for that night I dreamed that I was a child again, being held and soothed by a gentle father.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. :)
> 
> Pontius


End file.
